


Sonder: Prologue

by gloxinie, xelin



Series: Sonder [1]
Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloxinie/pseuds/gloxinie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xelin/pseuds/xelin
Summary: sonder;(n.) the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own





	Sonder: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prologue to the Sonder series.  
> Not necessary to enjoy the main storyline, but may be helpful for context/hints.

There was the soft hum of chatter; the occasional ripple of laughter; the clinking of glasses. Junhee rested his elbows onto the bar, bringing the champagne flute to his mouth. He pressed his lips against the glass, aware of someone’s unwavering eyes locked onto him from across the bar, as they had been the entire evening. After drinking the last of his alcohol, he set the glass back down onto the bar surface and made a brief gesture toward the bartender for a new drink. He drummed his fingers against the wooden surface, slowly tilting his head in the direction of his observer.

Their eyes met. The individual seemed slightly taken aback at the sudden contact, but it was only brief, and he recovered quickly. Junhee allowed his lips to curl into an indolent smile, inviting conversation. After several moments of hesitation, they eventually succumbed to the lure, and pushed themselves out of their seat. Seconds later, they settled onto the bar seat beside Junhee, glass of red wine in hand.

“I recognise every face in this bar aside from yours,” Junhee informed. When his new champagne flute was placed before him, he took a fleeting sip, then spun his body around to look directly at the new face. “I like meeting the new people who come here.”

“You must know this place like home,” the stranger responded, drinking from his own glass in turn. “Do you have any other interests?” His body language seemed slightly off-putting: the way he crossed one leg over the other and didn’t entirely face in Junhee’s direction. Junhee ran his tongue over his lips out of practiced habit.

“I’m a businessman - almost all of my interests revolve around that. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be very good at my job, hm?” Junhee laughed, and the stranger returned the gesture. It didn’t seem forced exactly, but it felt tense, so Junhee inclined his upper body forward somewhat to anticipate the next question, one elbow resting on the bar surface.

“Being a businessman seems difficult. Must rely a lot on luck, huh?”

It was a perfectly innocent comment. For all he knew, it carried no underlying meaning. And yet, when he met the stranger’s eyes, they seemed oddly focused. Searching, even. As though they were trying to find something, yet they were glued to Junhee. It sent an uncomfortable chill through him, and he straightened his spine far more abruptly than intended. He swiftly drank the last of his champagne.

“I suppose you could say that,” he said, compelling himself to smile again. He dug in his pocket, and slid the money to cover his tab upon the countertop. He hated to appear rude, especially to someone new, but the sudden heat fanning across his cheeks and the keen eyes fastened to his own made him feel unexpectedly restricted. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, but I seem to have lost track of the time. Perhaps I shall see you again.” It was a poor manner in which to excuse himself, yet Junhee snatched the umbrella beneath his bar stool and strode toward the exit as smoothly as his unnerved self would allow him to.

Even after Junhee let the bar door fall shut behind him, it was as though he could still feel the weight of someone's gaze resting upon him. The street was dark, illuminated only by the occasional streetlight leaving patches of artificial orange light along the road. Now that the bustling noise of the bar had been shut out, the night felt eerily still. The usual drone of distant cars was nonexistent; the everyday whistle of wind through trees and buildings silenced. Junhee cast his eyes over his surroundings, but there was nobody there. It wasn't raining, however he tightened the grip he held on his umbrella before beginning to walk anyway. It was so quiet, in fact, that he could distinguish his own footsteps from a second pair within an instant.

When he fell to a stop, so did the echo of footsteps. He felt slightly on edge, despite his convictions telling him that - were anyone actually following him - he could handle it without any concerns. When he cast a brief glance behind him, the street appeared just as empty as it had moments before, so he took that as his signal to continue his steady pace. While he could still hear the footsteps mirroring his, he chose to blank it out, pausing only to confirm the emptiness of his surroundings whilst he unlocked the front door of his building.

Before he could close the door behind him, someone outside the door shoved their foot in the way of the closing door, preventing the door from closing. In a split second, Junhee had the length of the umbrella held up against the doorway, blocking the assailant from stepping any closer.

“Drop the umbrella, I'm not going to rain on you. I just want to talk," a voice stated bluntly, seeming completely unbothered by Junhee’s attempt to keep them at bay.

“Talk? You followed me- no, _stalked_ me to my home at the dead of night to talk?” Junhee said in complete disbelief. The individual took this moment of confused hesitation to force his way through the door.

“Yeah. It's cold, don't you have heating in this place?” he complained, tucking his hands into his pockets. Now that he was in the harsh interior lightning, Junhee knew who had (extremely rudely) invaded his home. The familiar face of the acquaintance he had made in the bar was taking in the near-empty room. His posture was far too trusting and relaxed to suggest any kind of intimidating attack, but Junhee’s unease multiplied tenfold upon recognising the man.

“Who are you? What did you come here for? Money?” Junhee asked, tone bitter. At this point, he was relatively convinced that this late night home invader had no ill will, but that didn't reduce how offended Junhee was when his questions were ignored.

“A businessman,” the guy hummed, echoing what Junhee had earlier said. “Let me guess. Stock market, right? Would explain the money. It feels a bit like a waste, though maybe that’s just my morals talking.” He had been eyeing up the minimally decorated room in a seemingly judgemental silence that left Junhee impatient to get this man out of his house. However, something he said had peaked his interest.

“A waste of what?” Junhee asked, suddenly attentive to the guy’s actions. He watched him closely as he sat in one of the few seats in the room.

“Lee Donghun,” he answered. Not the answer Junhee wanted. “That's who I am. I came here because I have some sort of proposition for you, if you’re willing to hear me out.” When his eyes lifted, they met Junhee’s. In that moment, it was as though a barrier was knocked down in Junhee's mind; a barrier he never even knew was there. Millions of reaching thoughts rushing into his head at once, leaving him feeling both stunned and vulnerable. He had never felt this vulnerable before, or at least not in a very, very long time. It was an invasive process, as though his mind was briefly scanned and left bare, open, vacant. It was so unexpected in his private mind that it felt like a jolt of electricity, his umbrella dropping to the marble floor with a loud clatter amplified by the emptiness of the room. The shock was enough to cause his even footing to shudder slightly. All of it occurred within a second or two, yet it felt like hours.

“Who are you?” Junhee repeated, regaining his composure as quickly as he lost it. This time, he wasn't looking for a name. “What are you?” His eyes searched Donghun for any sign of danger, but this tall man slouched in an expensive chair and clothed in an oversized blue hoodie made no move to attack.

“You don't need to look at me like that, as though we're so different when you and I both know that we're not,” Donghun insisted, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. When he saw how tense Junhee was, he attempted a slightly awkward smile. It wasn’t much comfort. “I'm not here to attack you or force you into anything, I’ll promise you that. I'm here to offer you an opportunity that involves spending your time outside of bars. From what I've seen, that's at least half of what you do with your time. And, as a matter of fact, something tells me you would appreciate a chance to do something a little different. Simply put, I want to help you, whilst helping others in the process.”

The way he spoke wasn't persuasive in the same way Junhee’s was - in fact, his tone was soft and unassuming - it was more like he knew exactly what to do and say to make specifically Junhee stop and listen. In all honesty, Junhee still wasn't sure what had happened in those few seconds of eye contact, but it was new and had hit him right where he was the least guarded. He wouldn't risk demanding things from this guy, not yet.

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?” Junhee asked slowly.

“Like I said, I have a proposition for you,” Donghun replied.


End file.
